


Sundry Goods

by greenmage128



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmage128/pseuds/greenmage128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Crowley haggles, and Gabriel is always up to no good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sundry Goods

**Author's Note:**

> Well hey, I've been sitting on this one forever, mostly because I was half-afraid to post it. Not because it would reveal just how much of a nerd I am, but because I just wasn't sure about it in general. I would love to add more to this some day. We'll see.
> 
> This fic and any that follow are based on my understanding of D&D 3rd edition. Crowley is intended to be a Neutral Evil tiefling sorcerer, and Gabriel is a Chaotic Neutral aasimar bard. And, yes, I have headcanons and a list for most of the other characters of SPN. If I decide to expand on this, they may or may not come into play. >_>

“All right, so we’ll take a quarrel of bolts, two enchanted daggers, a set of studded leather armor, and all the potions you’ve got.”

Crowley looked at his companion, while the shopkeeper set to work on the order. “What, you don’t want to throw in that rare crossbow they’ve got on display?”

Gabriel gave him a brief look, trying to keep his eyes on the shopkeeper. “Why, do you want a new one?”

“No, just wondering if you’re trying to bankrupt us,” Crowley said.

“We can afford it. We should even have enough left over to get some scrolls, ‘cause I know how you magician types love those.”

“I’m a sorcerer, not a wizard, Gabriel. I don’t need scrolls.” Crowley crossed his arms, indignant. “The extra money would be better spent on an inn that isn’t infested with rats.”

The bard waved him off. “That was one time.”

“The one time you managed to pick the worst inn in Cormyr. I’ll not trust your judgment again.” Crowley paused, watching Gabriel’s shoulders slump at the barb. “Well, not about inns anyway.”

“All right, lads.” The shopkeeper set the armor on the counter, the last item of their order. “That’ll be two hundred silvers for the lot.”

Gabriel picked up one of the enchanted daggers and examined it. “Seems fair. These are good.”

The sorcerer eyed all the items on the counter, one hand clasped around his purse. “One hundred and fifty silvers, plus a potion case. I am not carrying all those vials loose.”

“If you want to haggle, go to Calimshan. Here in Cormyr all of this is two hundred silvers, plus five for the potion case,” the shopkeeper said.

Crowley took a deep breath. This would take all of his charm and then some. He relaxed his posture, let his arms hang down at his sides, and gave his best smile. “If I wanted to be swindled, I’d go to Calimshan. Instead I’m here in your fine establishment. And while two hundred is more than fair, my companion and I are down to our last copper and still in need of an adventuring license, not to mention worrying about a bed for the night. So, please, sir.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Gabriel bite down a grin, but the bard did his part and hung his head, looking up at the shopkeeper with hooded puppy-dog eyes.

The man bought it hook, line, and sinker. He even threw in the potion case, going so far as to fill it for them.

“How do you do that?” Gabriel asked once they were outside, twirling his new daggers as they walked. “I mean, you’re a tiefling. You should not be able to con people the way you do.”

Crowley couldn’t help a satisfied smirk. “Race is irrelevant. It’s all about making the poor bastards trust you. You’re not so bad at it yourself, darling.”

The bard smiled, and he wouldn’t quite look at Crowley. “Years of practicing on my tightwad brothers. I told you we’d make a good team.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Crowley said with far more affection than he liked. Damn it all.

They passed a tavern, and Gabriel stopped them, listening to the jovial tune playing inside and bouncing along with it. A grin spread across his face. “I’ve got an idea. Come on.”

The sorcerer considered not following him into the tavern, to let whatever plan he had blow up in his face. After a few moments, Crowley went after Gabriel, because even if it ended up a disaster, it would undoubtedly be fun. The bard was good at that, at least.


End file.
